Remake Of My Untitled Drabble Series
by LotornoMiko
Summary: Reworking of an old fic of mine, first written a decade ago. Though maybe fic is the wrong word for it, since it's supposed to be a series of drabbles. Mostly little moments between Lezard and Lenneth after he succeeds in trapping his beloved Goddess into a cage of human flesh. VP 1 game based. Non Con Chapter 7 Ending rewritten...
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Lezard Valeth, Lenneth Valkyrie, or the series Valkyrie Profile. That honor belongs to Tri Ace and Square Enix. I make no money off of this fic either. Merely done as a creative outlet.

-Michelle

* * *

At first Lezard thinks that he has imagined her presence. That the white of her dress playing pass in the corner of his vision's range is nothing more than a haunting memory of the glimpse he has had of her from earlier in that night. Even the empty doorway that leads into his library seems to substantiate that claim, Lezard lifting his arms to bring his hands to his face. His glasses are then pushed aside, Lezard's fingers rubbing at his too tired eyes. He's ready to write it all off as mix of his own personal longing, and the fact that he has done more than enough reading for one night.

It's not just his eyes that feel the strain, it is his head and it is his heart. All three made heavy, it is a weary Lezard turned ancient, that pushes back from his chair. The wooden legs of it scrape hard across the floor, that loud burst of sound echoing through out the upper levels of his tower. It's that sudden noise that attracts HER to him, the woman suddenly standing there before the room's only door.

Very much like a ghost clad all in white, her bare feet make not a sound on the floor. It's what allows her to pad silently about the place, one careful step in front of the other, lending a practiced grace to her movements when just a scant few hours earlier, she had been nothing but clumsy and awkward. She's proven a fast learner, even for a divine entity, the woman having had only those faint few hours to learn how to control an all too new and very much mortal body.

It's a task already well mastered, and Lezard can't quite keep the pleasure from overtaking him. His tired heart suddenly feels full of a bursting joy, and it is with a satisfied purr in his voice that he then acknowledges her.

"Lenneth..." It's not all pleasure that he feels. It is surprise, the emotion hitting him hard, the shock of it born at seeing her up and about so soon. Never mind the feeble state that she had been in, her inner turmoil had far outweighed that of her physical. Bereft and despairing, her pain and heartbreak had been painted for all to see in the glassy blue of her eyes, she had been in no state for him to have expected Lenneth to venture out any time soon.

That tortured gaze then drifted to his, Lezard catching an all too brief glimpse of the unrivaled purity of her blue eyes. For one second their gazes lock together, and then Lenneth is turning away, her face like cold marble for all the interest that she has shown him. She hadn't been able to quite hide the disappointment though, that sad sort of frustration. It was near unbearable, this sad, sort of wraith that she has become, a pale imitation of her once vibrant self. He could only hope that in time it would get better, that she would get better,

"Wait!" He cried out, a hand of his held out towards her imploringly. He had felt a real panic at the thought of her leaving, it and the urgency that he always felt around her, were now leaking into his voice. "Don't go..."

She paused then, and the first flicker of hope dared light inside of his heart. He had no greater wish in the moment, than that of her acknowledgment, of that and of her tolerance, these scant few seconds in her presence a precious and wondrous thing. He braced himself for her emotions, for whatever glimpse she might allow of him. Even that sullen mood of earlier would have been welcome, though Lezard's heart pang in protest at the idea of her maintaining her refusals to speak with him.

She still hadn't turned to look at him, though Lenneth made no further move to walk away. But neither did she question him, the woman still quiet like some sort of spirit, with only the gentle rise and fall of her chest to show that she still breathed, and was still alive.

Lezard wasn't accustomed to panic, and yet he felt it rising by leaps and bounds inside him. He didn't know what to say to her, didn't know how to further implore her to stay, or endear himself to her. So complete was his panic, that Lezard couldn't even began to fathom what one would say to a Goddess, especially to one he had already failed to impress. His deep and endless affection, that enduring love he had borne for her, it and his desire hadn't been enough, the woman unmoved by his ardent proclamation of devotion to her.

Nor had any of his earlier boasts done the trick, the woman—the Goddess, hardly impressed by his spectacular feats, the achievements in the forbidden magic that had led to Lenneth's soul being trapped inside this cage of mortal flesh. Nowhere near ready for his professions of love, she had been equally as unprepared to be dazzled by one man's obsession fueled blasphemy against her. Even if Lezard could have tried to fool himself otherwise, there had been no denying her reaction. The suppressed rage she had shaken with, or the anger in her hurt expression, the pain of it reflected a dozen times over in her beautiful blue eyes.

Haunted by just the memory of the look she had given him, Lezard's tongue was like wood in his mouth, fumbling for something to say. Something simple, something to break the ice that existed between them. Something that would not cause her undue pain and distress. His mind cast about in endless patterns, the man trying to figure out what was that one thing that they all had in common, that one thing that everyone could agree to. His desperate eyes cast about the room, as though the library with all it's magical tomes held the answer that he needed. Maybe it did, the man having caught sight of a half eaten apple laying next to the open book that he had just thought to abandon.

His amethyst colored eyes lit up like jewels with his delight, the relief apparent in the way that he smiled. This was the one thing that all humans shared, the one common goal that linked them all together. Food.

"Are you hungry?"

Wonder of wonders, but she had then turned back towards him, giving Lezard her full regard. It wasn't the food that she was after though, the woman shaking her head no. It was a new worry to file away for later, when Lezard had a moment to himself away from her. Then and only then would he wonder why Lenneth had yet to show any interest in food or drink since she had awakened as a human. Had something gone wrong with her body, with his spell? Or was she simply being stubborn with this kind of abstaining? He didn't want to find out, didn't want to face the idea of the magic having gone wrong, or worse yet, his having to force her to eat. Anymore than he was ready to allow the Goddess to rend herself sick through the act of neglecting her own needs.

It wasn't a line of thought that he wanted to indulge in and follow, not with Lenneth so near. Not with his attention drawn to the pouting pink of her lips, her mouth working open and close as though trying to give voice to some notion. He wondered then if she was even capable of it, the only sound she had thus far made, being that of an anguished scream. He hadn't once heard her actually speak, neither to hate him nor to damn him. Not even to sob. He'd take what he could get from her, Lezard finding it was absolutely imperative that he hear her dulcet tones voiced out loud once more.

Her lips again tried to form the words, Lenneth going so far as to lick at them nervously. "I..." She faltered then, as though that one sound had taken all of her strength to voice. "I want to go home." Her voice was no less soft and unsure, her new throat not yet accustomed to speaking. He still flinched to hear it, staggered as though wounded by the sentence that she then repeated, and it was no softer then before, but somehow made stronger with that voiced desire.

~Why this!?~ Such a plea wasn't completely lost on him, the feelings behind it needing a colder heart than his, to remain completely unaffected by it. He could only wish for the ease in which to close off his ears to the pain and the longing for home that was captured in her soft voiced utterance, Lenneth taking an uncertain step towards him.

"Please…?" She spoke as though that word alone could make all the difference, as though it had all the power in the world to change his mind. It didn't, and even if it could have, even if Lezard was somehow willing to now aid her, he simply lacked the means needed to be capable of rendering mortal flesh into that of a divine being.

"No." It wasn't meant to be outright cruel, that blunt refusal, but neither could he soften the blow of it. Lezard told himself that he wasn't sorry, that he didn't feel at all bad for the crestfallen look that overcame all of her hope. Yet he stepped towards her all the same, his hand catching hold of her bare arm, before Lenneth could make good on her intent to flee the room.

It was easy to forget himself, to give in to temptation with her so near. Only the way that she had so blatantly stiffened in displeasure, kept him in check, Lezard somehow not pulling Lenneth towards him.

He still warred with the urge, and with the words, offering her a boon in the only way that he could. "Ask of me anything else….anything within reason." He was quick to stipulate in order to safeguard himself and HER from any dangerous requests. "Anything within reason, and I will do my best to try and grant it."

She was quiet for a long time after that, her eyes locked onto the hand that was gripping hold of her arm. Lenneth made no actual move to escape him though, and his foolish heart beat with a renewed hope. If she could tolerate this much, what else might she grow to accept one day soon?

"Are..." Her quiet tone drew him out of his own private musings, Lezard quick to pay heed to her words. "Are there no windows in your tower?" She finally looked up, the blue of her eyes meeting the surprised amethyst of his. "I...I want to see the sky..."

Surprise gave way to relief, his smile that rare shade of brilliant that might some day rival hers. All because this was a request that he could grant. Easily and gladly, and such was the excited joy in his heart, that he gave in to temptation. He crushed her to him, the woman letting out a startled cry as she tried to shove free of him. His arms held her trapped, taking an illicit moment to enjoy the sweet scent of her this close, to savor the delicate beauty trembling so viciously against him.

"Just one second more." He whispered silkily in her ear, as blue and red etchings carved themselves into the floor beneath them. The Goddess had yet to notice, too busy trying to knock him off balance. It wasn't until the sheen of blue silver rose up up and surrounded them, that Lenneth would still the worst of her struggles, to gasp out instead. She had surely recognized this power, this spell in particular, an ancient, forbidden magic that Lezard had made frequent use of in that first ever battle between them.

With the sound of bells chiming loudly in their ears, that magic took rough hold of them, casting them into that dark in between that was neither here nor there. Teleportation magic was always as jarring as it was startling, and then just as abruptly they were spit out into a moonlit night. Gone was the dusty old carpets that they had just been standing on, replaced instead by the dew soaked cobblestones of the tower's roof. There was a second of disorientation, that was broken up by an appreciative cry. Lenneth's lips had parted with that sound, the woman bending back in his grip to stare up at a night sky that was a painted a midnight blue color, with hundreds upon hundreds of twinkling stars as it's bold highlights.

The moon itself was out, round and thick, and hanging heavy amid a grouping of clouds. It's white light seemed to shine directly on them, illuminating the tower's rooftop, and the endless forest that extended in all directions around them. Lenneth's eyes were all for it, her nostrils flaring as she took an exaggerated breath, and then another. She was in fact breathing in deeply of the night air, tasting the freedom that had thus far so eluded her.

Ever vigilant and cautious, Lezard slowly released his hold on her. His nerves were on edge and screaming, his arms ready to lash out and catch her should Lenneth so much as attempt to run from him. That she didn't, couldn't entirely relax him, Lezard watching as Lenneth began to spin slowly in place. Her arms were held out wide to either side of her, both her hair and her white dress being made to billow by the breeze. She seemed so unreadable in the moment though Lezard still scrutinized her closed expression for something, anything that he could have. He wanted her all, but in the moment, he'd settle for a single thought.

"What is it, Lenneth?" He asked her, hearing the way that she had then sighed. It was such a deep sound, such a weight bearing exhalation. "What are you thinking?"

Her spinning slowed to a halt, her eyes lifting to look at his directly. There was a universe in that blue gaze, a whole realm of unfathomable mystery and feeling that she tried to keep from him. A million and one things she wouldn't give grudging voice to, those thoughts, those emotions, even the expected damnation denied to him. She was judge, jury, and executioner in the moment, her disinterest towards him a blow like no other, leaving Lezard staggered as though slapped. Not even that merited a reaction from her, Lenneth still that unattainable Goddess, seemingly forever beyond his reach.

* * *

To be Continued…

So...yeah...one of my oldest series, reworked to hopefully reflect the changes (And improvements I hope!) to my writing style. I mean when did I even start this one...back in like 2007 or 2008. _ I've been trying to reread my old VP works to get inspired (And yes OSVP is still being worked on..The overhaul of chapter eight got derailed big time though.) and the big problem I have with trying to work on any of them in 2018 is I hate how much my old writing sucks. A lot of it is to the point I can't work on new chapters without trying to fix the old ones first….

I wasn't even planning to rework this at first, but I reread it yesterday, and found I really liked this drabble series….and wanted to posted it to my archive or our own account. But I couldn't bring myself to post the original version, too busy hating on the old writing, and knowing I needed to try and spruce it up some. Though the sprucing up ended up expanding it by over 1000 words...THUD!

At the time of this writing, I think I will leave both the old version and post the new version to my fanfic net account. I guess just sorta as a comparison thing.

Also...I remember I had this garden chapter written for 12….that was almost completed, and then lost when I had that big computer crash back in like 2008. I always felt disappointed and angry that I hadn't gotten to post that garden thing….but now a decade later, I realize...it was wrong for the fic the way it was. (Cause it went into this weird smut territory.) that doesn't mean I might not still try to write something garden themed eventually for this one!

One last thing, this series jumps around in order of events. It was never meant to be a continuous story per se, just little drabbles detailing the moments as they came to me of their time together. This is a VP 1/VP Lenneth setting as well….No time travel shenanigans of VP Silmeria.

Later!

6/17/2019 Slight update. Very slight. It was bugging me how this one ended. See originally when I started this overhaul I was trying real hard to keep each drabble as intact to the original 2006 (or was that 2007) version as I could...but already by two they were starting to veer off on their own course, and by three or four I stopped fighting them, and let them go off on their own tangents. With the way the overhauled version ended up being, it didn't sit right to me, that Lenneth would thank him for anything, especially not on what amounts to the first night. So I ended up tweaking the ending of the first drabble.. I had hoped to make it a little longer than a tweak, but...just everything else I tried to write after that last line, was met with dissatisfaction and the feeling that I was just trying to drag it out for no reason. So I let it end where I did….

-Michelle


	2. Chapter 2 Hunger

The signs were all there. Lenneth had stopped eating. How many days had it been this time? How many sleepless nights had he spent worrying, Lezard sick with it, and sick with the grief, his anger and his upset leaving the man to feel absolutely helpless. Haunted by the cold reality of tray after tray abandoned, the food not so much picked at, as ignored entirely. Not a single bite had been taken, not a single spoonful tasted.

He had spared no expense when it came to feeding her. To tempting her. Sumptuous feasts of roasted meats, delicate glazes, and the gravy to flavor them all. Buttery thick confections, sweet tasting cakes, frosted pastries, and the like. Fruits from all corners of the realm, ripe and fresh, preserved that way due to magic, Lenneth had shown no more interest in the fat berries than she had the fish from Hai Lan. She had cared not for the food from the holy city of Crell Monferaigne, or the common every day stock farmed from such villages like Coriander. She craved neither the simple nor the extravagant, turning up her nose at most of his offerings.

He had kept on trying though. Bringing before her rare delicacies from Vilnor, from Gerabellum, from Lassen. She never outright ate any of it, the Goddess more apt to pick apart the food and take only the bare minimum needed to keep her going. Only now it seemed she had abandoned doing even that!

It went beyond any pattern that he had grown familiar with. Her appetite sparing at the best of times, it now seemed gone completely, the Goddess viewing the task of eating as though it was some horrendous chore. Little by little, Lenneth was wasting away, a once vibrant being now made listless and lethargic by her own hand.

It wasn't the only sign of her starvation. Lenneth's skin always a pleasant if pale shade of cream, now had grown so white as to be near translucent. Her clothing was starting to loosen noticeably on her already slender enough form. Worst yet might be her lack of strength, her rapidly depleting energy, a condition only made worse once she had started refusing all drink as well. She no longer even deigned to sip of even the freshest of spring water, Lenneth's lips cracked dry from dehydration. She was in effect dying a slow death, and Lezard wondered if the one time Goddess even cared.

It was the most passive aggressive attempt at suicide Lezard had ever born witness to. She was torturing herself, and she was torturing him, this wasting away that Lenneth was doing killing him inside. His heart so hurting with his worry, then sounded with a harsh beat at the thought of the Goddess cheating them both this way. It made him angry, SHE made him angry, Lezard wracked with a violent shudder and an unspoken vow that she would not escape him this way.

Such was the violent strength of his anger, that the tray that Lezard carried actually shook. There was the wet sloshing sound of soup spilling over the sides of it's bowl, Lezard biting back a curse at the mess that he was helping to make. The sight of that wasted food didn't help with his anger, and abruptly Lezard was turning, marching his way back in the direction he had just come from.

His hands had white knuckled the tray, steadying it as much as he did his nerves and his resolve. He would not allow her to do this. He would not! One way or another, Lenneth would eat, either by his choice or by hers.

She didn't even seem to have enough strength left to muster up a gasp, though Lenneth's mouth gaped open for one all too brief moment. Her genuinely disinterested facade faltered, that startled light gleaming in eyes that had colored a glassy blue. Lenneth stared at him from where she lay confined to the bed, too weak and too sick from her hunger to do much of anything else. The sight of her so weak and so frail, so clearly hurting, only cemented his resolve, his steel determination lending purpose to the way that he stalked his way toward her.

Lezard saw the way that Lenneth's nostrils flared, that and the way that she struggled to sit up. She was too weak to do even that much on her own, and it made Lezard absolutely furious. "This has gone on long enough." He all but snarled at her, his demeanor completely different from before. Gone was the gentle nature suitor, the would be lover who would have done and said anything to coax a willing response out of her. That man was who she had so blatantly ignored, Lenneth having turned on her side to present her back to him. It was that man who had walked away, who had almost accepted defeat at her hands. It was that man who he had let make him feel helpless, and it was that man Lezard now wrested control from.

Eyes that might almost be frightened tracked his forward progress, that beautiful blue color unnerving in the depth of feeling that it betrayed of her. He saw fear, but Lezard also saw a deep abiding resentment, that unspoken accusation boring into his very soul. Even at her absolute weakest, Lenneth's warrior spirit remained, stubborn and proud, and ever ready for a fight. Nothing could sway it, sway her, not the gifts and the silk finery, not the jewels and his ardent proclamations of affection. And not even the food, Lenneth difficult as both a woman and as a captive.

She had such a strong and unyielding spirit, that noble heart of hers something to be admired, feared, and loved. It left him in awe of her, and it left him furious, Lezard both hating and loving that stubborn streak that was so uniquely Lenneth's own. It made her a woman like no other, the Goddess a challenge Lezard meant to unravel.

With his eyes reflecting a subtle menace of their own, with the tray carefully set aside, Lezard reached for Lenneth with both of his hands. She made a sound very much like a hiss, weakly attempting to shove free of him. He ignored her feeble efforts, Lezard hauling Lenneth to sit up right across his lap. With her frail form situated snug against him, with his left arm an imprisoning weight across the tops of her breasts, Lezard brought a spoonful of the warm liquid to her lips.

The silver scoop of the spoon actually nudged it's tip against her lips, the Goddess making an outraged sound before abruptly turning away. So quick and so sudden was that head whip, that his hand was knocked off balance, splashing the spoonful soup onto the front of Lenneth's gown. She barely reacted to that, or to Lezard's annoyed growl, Lenneth just resolutely keeping her nose upturned to his offerings.

There was a dozen things he could have said to her then, a million accusations about her stubborn and difficult nature. They would have had as much effect as any of his earlier platitudes, the woman not of mind to care that Lezard was simply after what he saw as best for her. She cared not what he wanted, and not of his affection or that of his worry, Lenneth turning her back on it, on him, on it all. Where once such a blatant refusal and rejection would have left him stonewalled and helpless, the anger inside him only helped to combine and strengthen his resolve, and his determination.

With his eyes gleaming a heated calculation behind the panes of his glasses, Lezard shifted enough to scoop up another spoonful of the warm soup. That silver utensil then clattered to the bed, a stray drop soaking into the mattress' sheets, as his now free hand caught at the back of Lenneth's hair. Stiff and unyielding, he heard Lenneth start to make a questioning bit of sound. Whatever she might have asked was then lost to the firm pressure of his lips, his mouth pressing an open mouth kiss to her. The noise she made then was an indignant shriek, the woman not quite able to keep from choking on the soup he had spilled into her mouth from his. The Goddess tried to rebuff him, tried to reject the nourishment offered, but Lezard kept their lips pressed together. She could no more spit out the soup, then Lenneth could hope to get away, the firm unrelenting grip of his fingers in her hair just as harsh and demanding as his lips and HER hunger. That mouthful of soup once tasted was near impossible to resist, her starved body's instinctual need taking over, her throat working to greedily swallow down what she had so long denied it.

There was a soft rumble of sound from her stomach, a noisy protest of just how starved it truly was. He felt how that ineffectual fight inside her began to give, Lenneth trembling more and more violently in his arms. The last of her resistance began to crumble apart, and it was Lenneth's tongue that then touched at his lips, the woman greedy for any lingering taste of the soup.

She wasn't kissing him. Not exactly, and yet he couldn't help himself. His tongue and his lips took sweet advantage of her, mouth molding firm and needy to hers. Lenneth gasped and faltered against him, everything of her from her soul to her body, seeming to withdraw in on itself. Lezard didn't immediately relent, he couldn't, greedy for a taste of the Goddess he had sinned so blatantly against.

With his tongue slid firm and unrelenting inside her, he learned the soft contours of her mouth. Ate up the fitful sounds that she made, and enjoyed the squirming gyrations of her trembling body's attempt to escape. It excited him, SHE excited him, his blood pumping furious through him as his exhilarated heart roared a pulsing tempo in his ears. It would have been SO easy, so easy and ever so tempting to take further advantage of her.

He was anything but a saint, with his unholy desire and his unrelenting pursuit of her. His hands already so dirty from sin and temptation, and with the numerous crimes committed for and against her, it took a strength of will Lezard hadn't known he had possessed, to stop at just a kiss. That they were both red faced and panting, made breathless from the experience, brought a crooked smile to the man's lips. He took in the sight of her, of her cracked lips looking swollen, of the wild look in her eyes, and of the way her erratic breathing made her breasts heave and strain thin the satin fabric stretched across her ample chest.

She was staring back at him, her eyes wide and wary, something very much like apprehension alight in that cobalt blue color. Lezard wondered just what his own unsettled gaze showed her, if the demons of his lust waged their battle in his very expression.

"Now..." There was no helping the husky, overly sexual timber of his voice. Not after that kiss he had just stolen! He shifted enough to fetch the spoon, Lenneth never quite looking away from him. There was a ripple of sound made by an unsteady hand, Lezard getting another scoopful of soup before continuing. "Are you ready to eat on your own…? Or…." His eyes dipped low to caress an intimate look at her lips which were still all a quiver.

It was a threat that needed no further voicing, Lenneth sagging in defeat against him. He was ALMOST disappointed, but that was also lost to the relief, the Goddess finally breaking her fast to take in eager mouthfuls of the soup.

* * *

To be Continued….

Ah….well this one ended up deviating a bit from how the original drabble was. Just in that Lezard got angry over her starvation attempt.

May take a break from the drabbles overhaul, to go work on OSVP eight now…but we shall see where the inspiration ultimately leads me!

-Michelle


	3. Chapter 3 Nightmare

The night was a time for secrets and sins, it's heavy shroud of darkness casting all manner of shadows on the dirty dealings of a heart that was impure. Those inky black tendrils seemed to seep into everything, from the blood that stained his hands, to the criminal lusts of a man who was driven. By desires both ruthless and unrelenting, his curious nature outdone only by his obsession. By the woman, the Goddess, and all the many mysteries around her.

An enigma at best, Lenneth was the one puzzle he had yet to unravel. She was a challenge that he thrilled to, the Goddess this question whose answer he meant to have, Lezard as determined as he was devious, and so thoroughly devoted in his distraction, that he had taken to pacing the halls. Every step led him to her, Lezard unable to stay away. Unable and unwilling, with a mind refusing to focus on anything that didn't have to do with the Goddess, his was an almost predatory excitement.

He anticipated the screams. Had in fact counted on them, the sound breaking into the quiet of the night. Even the tower had seemed to hold it's breath, everyone-everything waiting, listening and rewarded with the sounds of the Goddess' distress. That of her nightly torment, Lenneth's voice a shrill echo that always brought him running. He'd burst into her room just in time to savor the sight of her writhing form, the thin sheets of the bed often kicked off during her spastic struggles. It left her exposed, the thin white fabric of her night dress riding up high on her thighs, her thrashing form fighting against some demon whose sole existence was locked inside the Goddess' mind.

Caught up by that monster, by some secret fear, Lenneth often screamed herself awake each time. She was still a sight to see, with her long hair unbound from it's braid, that wild mane of a bluish silver spread out around her. His fingers itched to sink into that silk, to see if it was as cool to the touch as his Goddess' waking demeanor often was. She could be like ice, so cold and determined to disdain him, to ignore and revile him, so complete the opposite of this. With the pain and torment in her voice, the fright making her body strain and arch, even bounce back against the bed. It was almost obscene the way that she moved, the way that her hips rolled as though to buck off of an invisible assailant.

Such a sight tore a ragged breath from HIM, Lezard always having to pause. To stand there almost stupidly, and just watch the writhing torture of his beloved, before yet another scream broke through his distraction, the sound so plaintive and full of suffering that his heart moved with a kind of pity. With that feeling that made him push back through the first potent strains of an appreciative lust that was stirring. Painfully aware of it, and of her, Lezard would end up on the bed, strong hands reaching out to her. The barest graze of fingertips against skin, and then the Goddess would jolt awake, an almost hysterical scream locked in her throat. She'd fight him as he pulled her against him, the woman, Lenneth, outright shaking as without a word, Lezard tucked her in close against his chest.

"Shhh…." He'd whisper a soothing sound, feeling her flinch as his hands explored over her back. Lezard would pet a calming path into the fabric of her night dress, sly fingers longing to caress directly over exposed flesh. That much he didn't dare, the temptation such that his fragile control would all but snap apart. It didn't stop him from wanting, from being aware of it and aware of her, Lenneth's soft, trembling form, pressed against his. He felt every panicked breath, felt the harsh heave of her chest, and the firm shape of curves that were perfect. SHE was perfect, a magnificence personified, the Goddess this tangible fantasy made real. HIS, Lezard's fingers hesitating, pressed as they were on the clothed part of her back. The temptation was there, his rapidly fraying sense of right versus wrong this much closer to tipping over.

She seemed to know it too, Lenneth having gone absolutely still in his arms, not so much as an agitated quiver to betray her. He was the one left shaking, his lust and his love at war, a moment's satisfaction weighed against a lifetime's worth. It was the good and it was the bad, Lezard greedy for BOTH, the urge that was there almost stronger than what any one man should endure. It brought his blood boiling, left him to stew in a turmoil of his own making. Caught in the cusp of a want so potent, his body was left helpless, reacting on primal instinct, loose fitting pants growing tight and unbearable.

His Goddess had to be as aware of it as he, this charged moment between them, and the unspoken threat laying heavy on them. Lenneth spoke not a word, made not even a sound, not so much resigned as she was defiant, the rebellious blue of her eyes shining with that indomitable strength. It was a challenge that glared up at him, his Goddess practically daring him to prove just what level of a low life scum he really was.

Such a look couldn't outright cool the fire burning within him. Maybe nothing could, Lezard torn up by his desires. By that perverse want twisting around inside him, that same lust the very thing that had thrilled to Lenneth's nightly distress. To the reason it gave him to visit and hold her, Lezard aware that nothing short of the most horrific of nightmares would have brought the unwilling Goddess into his arms' embrace. Caught as she was, it was Lezard who was now captive, the man bound up by the conflict inside him. The war that he was losing, his reason chipped away bit by bit as each night repeated.

It left him looking forward to her screams, to the terror that tormented her nightly, those nightmares the excuse needed to justify his holding her. It had never gone much further than that, but the temptation had always been there. Always and forever, Lezard this much closer to bursting, all a quiver with that violent need.

It had fueled so much of actions, had been the driving force behind his obsession. It had led him to commit countless crimes and unspeakable acts, to broach the forbidden and do the impossible. It seduced him with whispers, with the hard truths he did not want to accept. It paved an easy path for his lust, such temptation making his fingers tense and curl in place over her the back of Lenneth's dress. He could barely stand against it, barely make the effort to fight, each night, each touch weakening his restraint just a little bit more.

Tired and ever so weak, this struggle was HIS nightmare to relive.

* * *

To Be Continued….

Not as long as the other ones….And it veered wildly off track from how the original nightmare drabble went. _ For the longest time I was stumped on how to revamp it too...didn't get inspiration until late last night. Though I had still hoped to work in the part when he asked about her nightmares, Lenneth didn't answer except to say she was living it. But it didn't happen….

If I stick to the drabble series and the order the original version went, the next one might be a combination of what took place over three or four drabbles. Then again, this is already trying to veer off drastically from how the original drabble series went….and right now I am itching to jump to the one about when she first woke up his prisoner and in a homunculous body. But we shall see!

Laters!

Michelle


	4. Chapter 4

The days proved no better than that of the night, each hour awake spent enduring the most torturous of longings, the poignant pain of his heart at war with the blazing fires of his lust. Both made for a potent poison, Lezard left sick with it, with his love and with his desire, each fueling a red hot passion that had led him to accomplish the impossible again and again. That drive inside him, the forbidden knowledge his reward, untold power his to command, and still he was made helpless! Left to the mercy of cold, disinterested eyes, and a gnawing hunger that was all his own.

He wanted her. Wanted the Goddess with a yearning that went beyond anything ever experienced in this mortal life. He was made slave by it, devoted and desperate, hands ever reaching for that which they were not made fit for, and yet still he tried. Again and again, with countless depravities and the most blasphemous of sins staining his very soul, he had dragged the woman down from that lofty perch of hers up in the Heavens to trap them both in this never ending nightmare of indecision.

It was both heaven and it was hell, his every fantasy within reach. So close and yet so far, the murky waters of a lust and a love at war with each other, the right and the wrong of them both such that more often than not, he floundered between them. That push and pull play of his heart versus his libido, resulted in touches stolen, his immense guilt mixing with that of the illicit thrill, there was a limit to just how much a sinner could endure! He felt the strain of it wearing at his control, each lonely night that saw his bed remain empty bringing them a step closer to all sense of patience lost.

Time an enemy to them both, Lezard still tried to play at doing as right by her as he could, the proper respect and reverence shown. He attempted to be the gentleman, to behave as much as any one man could when caught in the grip of the ultimate in temptations. His feelings were a double edge sword in that, Lezard's love that which lent him the finite patience his lust was steadily chipping away at. Piece by piece was being worn away, all of his love's firm resolve and determination getting him nowhere near closer to that which he sought, the Goddess' heart still as elusive now as it had ever first been.

Tortured by that truth, Lezard could only strive forward, the impossible sought. The inevitable lingered near, it's oppressive weight felt by them both. It loomed overhead, seemed to color each one of their encounters, that barely repressed sexual hunger a tension that lingered, his hand catching at hers, even more touches skimming over the silk and satin fabric of her clothes. It fed off what it could, preyed on the shiver that trembled through the Goddess' form, grew fat off her wary energy and the haunted look in Lenneth's eyes. It forced an awareness of him, the woman cautious when once she had been completely dismissive.

No longer able to outright ignore him, there was that sliver of unrest inside her, that disturbing flash of fear that colored that beautiful blue gaze as it focused so completely on him. At long last acknowledged, that regard, no matter the flavor of feeling behind it, had a dizzying, intoxicating rush of euphoria surging through him. It purred out of him along with her name, that hand held captive by his used against her, Lezard drawing ever closer to Lenneth. Unwavering was her stare, that apprehension maintained in the look that she gave to him so strong that the man was surprised that the Goddess hadn't flinched at his nearness.

Finally and truly noticed by her, Lezard wasn't yet of mind to say if this was an improvement or not. Not with that disturbed look expressed, Lenneth teetering on an edge the same as he. Just as there was violence inside him, the same was inside her, a fight or flight instinct that seemed to shiver through her. She gave in to neither, the Goddess all but frozen in place, just watching with blue eyes that saw all, every last filthy sin, wicked thought, and depraved urge that made up his soul. What little good there was to be found could only flounder, all but swallowed up in that sea of darkness that left him ever so unworthy. Heretic that he was, the brand of criminal upon him, there had been no other recourse left to him, then to act. To seize that which he had wanted, the Goddess—the woman he so loved and admired.

With those same filthy hands that had so blatantly sinned against her, Lezard was able to touch Lenneth now. To do more than touch as he so desired. That lust that spiked through him, made his own fingers tremble, the smooth softness of her cheek within reach. He had murdered countless many for this moment, had damned an entire universe for just the chance, and had ushered the world into a lawless ruin. He had done so without a second's thought, without nary a moment's hesitation, yet one look from her left him to falter, the blue purity of her eyes narrowed with a provocation.

She was taunting him then, that one look goading Lezard to do his worst. Daring him to discard what remained of his heart, and prove instead the beast that he in truth was. The monster whose lust had stolen all chance from the world, Lenneth was girding a tiger in it's own lair, wanting even more reason to hate him. The fear and loathing that came off her in waves, shook through her slim frame yet the woman continued to bravely defy him. To make a mockery of his own inner struggles, neither his lust nor his love able to chip away at the core of who Lenneth was at heart. Proud Valkyrie, fierce warrior, benevolent Goddess, hers was a love that had forgiven many and saved souls, and he was desperate for it.

Desperate for her, he'd settle for no less than Lenneth's everything. Taking what he could, forcing what he couldn't, Lezard longing for love, but settling for hate if it meant he'd be in her head, her every thought of him, her heart filled with the fear and loathing for him and what he would do.

* * *

To be continued….

I did try to continue this past the last paragraph, but didn't like anything I tried to add on past the final sentence. Just felt so tacked on and forced. _ Plus this wasn't the drabble I had set out to write (maybe I can do it for five.), so this one ended up being very free form, watching through my fingers to see where it was going to end up type of deal.

Though part of me feels like it was trying to set up the non con route from the original version of the drabble series. But I am on the fence about that. If you read the first version of the series, I actually had two endings to that route. One that went all the way, and the other where he stopped himself. I am so undecided on which route I want to go for this...so I am trying to avoid going into reworking that arc's drabbles until I can decide.

There's no rush to decide, since I don't have to do things in order for this series. The drabbles jump around the timeline, little moments detailed as I think of them. So far every drabble has been a Lezard POV...I am almost ninety five percent sure ALL the drabbles should stay as a Lezard narrative. But you never know. I might get inspired and pop in a look at Lenneth's thoughts someday here...who knows. _

I'm still working on OSVP too...just wanted to work on something SHORT before I commit to writing another long chapter. Cause yes I am one of those who don't like stopping work on a chapter I've already got part of it written out. I don't know if that is my OCD at work there...But I almost never can stop writing one chapter, to work on another...even when I need a break from the current chapter...I just have this I have to finish this chapter first mentality. Which means I can have half a chapter written, then get stuck on it, and be unable to switch to something else...I sit there fighting with writer's block until I can get writing again, AND to my satisfaction. Makes me a slow as hell writer though…. _

-Michelle

Deliberatee, thank you! It DOES help. People might think it doesn't, but it so does in my case. Sadly I don't write as fast or as often as I used to...I hope that though I am not doing as much in terms of quantity, I can at least make up for it in quality. Key word, HOPE!

Yes, I have so many I want to work on! To fix up and revamp. It's hard to know where to start, or get enough time to do everything. The other day I was looking at Celestial Maiden, and it made me think of all these ideas on how I could improve the story, and make it a better read...and not so short and rushed. Though at that point I was still trying to finish OSVP chapter 12, so couldn't abandon that chapter to work on something else. I'm also still trying to figure out how to write Triumph's Tribulation….how to get that first damn chapter started….it's sorta Lezard's Triumph, but it's going to be massively overhauled, with new some new story ideas to it, and some of the original versions' ideas taken out of it. Honestly, in my head I've changed it enough, that it deserves the new name to the story. But I haven't been able to get that one started….

Non con….well as I mentioned in my author's note, I haven't yet made a decision about the non con arc that the drabble series originally had. I guess we'll see what happens eventually together. Either I'll make an outright decision on it, or Lezard will free form dictate it to me. _

Thank you again for your reviews, and I hope you keep on trying to motivate me with them! :D


	5. Chapter 5 The Harsh Truth

She spends just about every waking hour wandering about aimlessly. Pacing back and forth in that endlessly restless rhythm, Lenneth this silent ghost that haunts his tower home. He often catches sight of her through open doorways, a vision of such ethereal loveliness and heart breaking sadness, that even Lezard feels the conflict. That slight stirring of a guilt that is at odds with his own selfishness. It's never enough for anything more than a sad sort of remorse, the frustrated realization that he'll never be able to make her happy.

He wishes it were otherwise. But it is the impossible that Lezard desires, all that power, that knowledge, and even that desperation nowhere near potent enough for the man to catch at the one facet of the Goddess that still so eludes him. That of her smile, Lenneth instead this sad sort of miserable when around him. It's there in her eyes, the pain reflected a million times over in that ephemeral blue. That hurt is what greets him, that barely tolerates his approach. That wounded look that screams of so much, the woman wary, and shying away before he can land even a single finger to touch on her.

"Lenneth…" Her name sighs out of him, Lezard falling into step besides the Goddess. She doesn't hesitate, not even for a second, continuing her aimless journey about his tower home. He trails along with her, bearing silent witness to the mad energy that moves her first hand. It's an angry swish of her hair, a purposeful pump of her arms, and a determination that he still doesn't quite understand, Lenneth endlessly patient. Turning corner after corner in a corridor that circles around in on itself, she reminds him less of a woman, and more like some great caged beast, testing the limits of its prison.

Around them is the red glow of magic, the ancient and forbidden symbols he has carved into the very stones of his tower. The runes gleam a brighter shade whenever the Goddess draw too near, that primordial power reacting to one another. The sight used to comfort Lezard, but today it makes him uneasy, a dozen what ifs birthing to life in his head. It's a magic meant to confine, to subdue, to hide away sins, yet each flare of crimson screams like a beacon. It leaves him paranoid, the man looking around as though expecting to see something uninvited appear. That nothing does, can't set him off from that uneasy edge, Lenneth suddenly seized rough hold of.

There's the startled sound of her gasp, the woman finding herself forcibly dragged away from the wall and that flare up of magic. That crimson accusation can't distract from the look in her eyes, the wary unease, or the anger burning inside him.

"It won't work." Lezard tells her. "It won't!"

A slow steady blink is all the answer that he gets, Lezard fighting the impulse to shake some sense into Lenneth. He's the one raging out of control now, the anger spiking amid heart palpitations of genuine fear. He won't lose her. He can't!

He lets out a laugh with that ragged breath, that desperate denial turning him needlessly cruel. She'll bear the bruises as a result, Lezard landing a low blow not so much on her body as on her soul.

"HE'S not coming." By her flinch it's apparent that Lenneth know just who the he that Lezard has referred to is. His name is an unvoiced whisper on her lips, the Goddess trying to draw strength and reassurance from the memory of the man, the youth, whose fate had once caused her to shed such desperate tears over. There's no hint of them now, the cobalt blue of her eyes blazing strong with the woman's own anger and disdain, Lenneth glaring defiant at Lezard.

"He'll come." She bravely insists.

"Oh?" One eyebrow arches, his smile a mockery of the Goddess' adamant belief in her delusion. "Why is that? Because he loves you? Because you love him? Ha." He practically spits then, so disgusted by the idea. "You love a memory. You both do."

The way that she bristles at that, makes Lezard's lips twist, more smirk than smile expressed. It's a twisted pleasure that he feels, something depraved inside him livening to the battering his words will give to her.

"Ironic isn't it?" He taunts her with that. "Those memories that bind us…" There's a memory in his heart as well, that first glimpse ever of his Goddess leaving it's lingering impression upon him. Lezard had never been able to shake free of it, had never even wanted to try, instead letting all his drive and desire be fueled by it.

Awe struck by her, the one being in all of Creation fit to be that absolute shade of perfect in his eyes, it had made for a keen understanding of the loneliness to be found in love. The unrequited, or that of the lost, both were powerful, wounding implements that can and did drive one desperate. It made the impossible happen, the heavens themselves torn asunder, a Goddess made mortal, a memory given new form, even Creation itself warped to accommodate a desire. The secret wish of a heart all alone, the dead not so much reborn, as made a pale imitation of what once was.

"Do you know what the worst part in all of that is?" Lezard asked her. He didn't wait for the head shake that never came, that sinful part of him savoring the truth that he was wielding like a weapon. "That you, Lenneth, do not even realize what you've done. The lie that you've told yourself...the illusions you delude yourself with."

"What are you….?"

"He's DEAD." Came the interruption. "The trickster saw to THAT."

"I...with the power of Creation, I brought him back. I brought them ALL back." It was the most his Goddess had ever deigned say to him, her eyes bright with the belief that was part of her self denial.

"Oh? Just what did you bring back? The world? The people in it? Or was it just your memories of them given form, Lucian and the likes just hollow husks of what you wanted them to be!?"

There was the repeated, rapid blink of her eyes, the denial still there. She quickly shook her head no, as though that could stave of what Lezard was saying. It couldn't, the truth and its seeds once planted, blooms that would spread their discord and doubt within her.

"How lonely you must have been, how DESPERATE." He continued. "To cleave to that memory, to the perfect paramour that would never have cause to disappoint or hurt you. He's been the perfect yes man, hasn't he? Everything you could have wanted Lucian to be, and then some."

"Stop with your games!"

He pressed on. "He's never argued, has he? Never had so much as a cross word, or doubt to be voiced. None of them have. This world of imperfect dreams made peaceful on a whim. YOURS."

"The people WANTED peace." She argued.

"Some of them yes, but not ALL." countered Lezard. It was an almost pitying look that he gave her then. "There should have been some small faction of resistance, some who made trouble...Humans are naturally prone to fighting after all, always wanting something more, something bigger and better than what they have been given. Whole wars have been fought over that, people enslaved or killed, actually sacrificed in the name of greed's greater good."

"You've seen it with your own eyes." continued Lezard. "You've judged many a soul, walked the fields of battles waged in the name of that greed. You've seen the worst in humanity, seen the destruction done to realms and lives first hand."

She had started to shake, as though fighting the doubts that were trying to smash apart her beliefs.

"Why even that man…"

"You know nothing about him!" Lenneth cried out. "Or me!" She was almost violent, trying to jerk free of his hands grip on her arms.

"I know more than you'd like to admit to!" His eyes had narrowed with that, the angry energy within him rising to the challenge. "He helped doom an entire world with his reckless antics. He was so stupid and blind to the threat, so intent on reaching out to you for his own selfish desires, that he let the orb fall right into the trickster's hands!"

"He paid a steep penance as a result. He DIED."

"Yes. He died. The whole world in fact did! All of Creation destroyed in an instant, God, human, and demon alike! That man damned an entire existence to NOTHING. Loki may have wielded the power, but Lucian is the one who made the foolish choice. It's time you not only realize it, but accept that!"

"No...I never….I never denied his wrong in all this..."

"Yet you excuse it." Lezard hissed, tightening his grip to be more secure on her struggling form. "You excuse and you forgive, filling this new world with a memory of him. A memory not of how he was, but of how you idealized him to be. How you wished them ALL to be. Do you truly enjoy surrounding yourself with those puppets!? Or are you just so lonely, that you don't care!?"

"Lenneth..." By the look blazing in her eyes, Lezard had a feeling his beloved Goddess would have slapped him had she been able to get free.

"No!"

"It is meaningless." He snapped. "His feelings, his memories, his sense of self, all things you supplied his fake with. That one loves you, not because he wants to, but because he has no choice! None of them do!"

She was thrashing so hard against him that Lezard feared the hurt that Lenneth would cause to herself. She was simply too wild in the moment, too agitated, a violent energy trapped inside her, the woman unable to face the truth. She tried to keep on denying it, to keep on deluding herself that this happy, perfect world that she had created, was in fact the same one lost to Ragnarok. A piece of her might break to acknowledge otherwise, this new world, populated with perfect replicas of those who had been sacrificed, a safe haven to the Goddess who had already lost so much.

He wasn't without feeling. If anything, Lezard felt too much where the Goddess was concerned. That slight stirring of sympathy was outweighed by his own selfish need, the man wanting Lenneth to truly open her eyes, and take a good look around at the world she had created. This idyllic dream that was built on nothing more than lies, powered by the wish of her lonely heart.

He could understand her reasons. Could understand how powerful a motivator that feeling was. Lezard could even lay claim to the selfish side of lonely, given the lengths he had attempted in an effort to obtain Lenneth in a form he could control and subdue. But the man had also never tried to lie to himself about just what he had done. The lives ruined, the sins committed, or the world ruined. It's one balance gone, this perfect existence that Lenneth had created WOULD fall to pieces. Without a God to rule over them, those people she had birthed into life were without aim and purpose, doomed to repeat a cycle of old, destructive habits. It might not happen with this generation, or even the next, but sooner than later, those perfect ideals would be forgotten, the love she had infused her memories with halving, again and again, until only the fragments remained.

When that happened, greed would reign supreme, wars once again devastating the lands. Only this time there would be no saving grace, no divine hand to play benevolent for them. With none to guide them, no God to give voice to the concern, they wouldn't even CARE. Without Lenneth to show them the way, these replicated souls wouldn't even think to come looking for their lost Goddess.

"No one is coming for you." He hissed the thought out loud. "No one even cares enough to try." She let loose with a wild shriek of denial at that, Lezard hauling her struggling form up against the solid mass of his. She didn't quite still at that, Lenneth letting out a gasp to find herself all but knocked off balance. It was Lezard's hands that steadied and held her upright, the Goddess a trembling mess in his arms that only shook harder for his words. The truth that he taunted her with.

"Oh I am sure a select few will wonder where you've gone." He continued in that relentless tone. "But in this utopia that you helped make for them, few if any would ever dare imagine that there could be trouble of ANY kind in this paradise. Certainly they couldn't imagine the likes of ME!" He bent his head towards hers, breathing in the scent of an anger turned fearful. "After all, YOU couldn't."

It was a bitter gloat, Lezard knowing that he was the only human in all of Creation to be so uniquely his own. Free of the Goddess' influence, his was the only soul to have survived the destruction of Ragnarok. It had cost him the philosopher's stone, and a body or two, but he had endured, with his own mind and will intact, and harboring this combination of love and lust that went beyond any mere memories' feelings.

"You hadn't a single thought to spare for one such as me." He almost laughed then, watching as the narrowed blue of her eyes widened with the dawning realization. "None of you did. Now none of THEM will."

With that, he covered her mouth with his, muffling a sound that was a cross between his triumph and her dismay. It was the sweet and the bitter all at once, this victory a potent mix of wicked elation and his mounting frustration. Lenneth wasn't the only one left shaking as a result, Lezard feeling the tremors shudder through him. In the moment, he was a conduit of competing emotion, all the negative at war with the positive, the anger and the disappointments, the gloating and the relief, making for this riotous combination of a barely leashed aggression.

It was so utterly consuming, so completely sexual in nature, Lenneth's muffled screams only provoking him further. He laved his tongue against hers, kissing her thoroughly enough as to leave the Goddess breathless. Lezard tasted tears in that expression, hers, the fight being leeched out of Lenneth bit by bitter bit.

* * *

To Be Continued…

Had a few false starts with this one...two in fact...where I wrote some paragraphs, but they were going to lead me off track from what I wanted to write. Glad I was able to get it to the idea in my head, rather than another free form rambling chapter!

Though I didn't get to write in some stuff about Platina. But there's always room for that in some other drabble. Maybe even the very next one. We shall see!

Need to thank Huntress and Megs for letting me ramble about this one a fair bit. Ya'll being patient and listening to my inane babblings really helps. :)

-Michelle


	6. Chapter 6

He stared at the half empty bottle, its cap and its cup tossed aside, to instead partake directly of its poison. That amber bitterness was currently burning a path down his throat, liquid resentment and festering desires settling low in his belly. It didn't make for a happy drunk, Lezard this crackling live wire of raging fury and lusts, but made even more wild and dangerous than was the norm. With each and every swallow, the leash around his aggression, his few remaining inhibitions, frayed more and more, the man, the sinner, closer and closer to snapping.

It was exactly the reason why he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be indulging like this. That amber liquid only helped to destroy what little of his reason was left, and with it went his ability to tell right from wrong, all those wicked little impulses and depraved urges looking more and more like a good thing to do. Bolstered by that fool's courage, Lezard was one mistake away from a complete and utter ruin.

Even knowing this, he had still reached for the bottle. The cold glass couldn't contain the warmth inside, the powerful drink this potent heat that only blazed stronger once settled on his tongue. He should have spit it out immediately but that one taste had had a drugging effect, mouthful after mouthful being greedily guzzled down. Its sharp feel in his belly, couldn't take away from the sting of that slap, the remembered violence a rejection Lezard had taken to black heart.

Lenneth. She had been so angry, the Goddess made furious and even more so than he could ever recall, her blues eyes alive with that mad emotion. With that feral rage, the woman had channeled it all into the strength of her hand against his cheek. She had been beautiful even then, her despair and her loathing a pale shade when placed next to the more volatile of her emotion. Lenneth hadn't even tried to suppress it, that strong surge of hate and denial, all so thoroughly expressed in the moment, the Goddess actually feeling towards him. It was everything that Lezard could have hoped for, even if it was all wrong, the sentiments expressed, that animosity, the direct opposite of what the man had been wanting.

The bottle to his lips once again, Lezard sighed with his disappointment. Bitter sweet was the heart that felt so strongly, that anger and that fear, that hate and that denial, souring what could have been perceived as a victory. His triumph over her, the man at last so thoroughly in the Goddess' head. It was his words that had colored her thoughts, that had inspired so violent a reaction. She had not only taken note of him, Lenneth had reacted, the woman unable to help herself. With every word, every snarled out protest and denial, she had lost herself completely in the moment. To HIM, Lezard all that she could see, all that the Valkyrie could hear, that unpleasant truth breathed out between them.

So thoroughly caught up by him, was it any wonder that Lezard hadn't been able to resist her? That he hadn't even tried, sealing his win over her with that stolen touch, Lenneth's lips this trembling softness that had parted in a moment of pure outrage. He had taken the kiss, and then some, a thorough taste sampled with tongue and teeth meshing together. It had been greedy, it had been sloppy, and most of all, it had been bloody, Lenneth biting at Lezard in an effort to dissuade him. Deviant that he was, the pain had only provoked his desire further, a wild sound having escaped him.

It had been intoxicating, all that power and unbridled fury and even that fear, all ignited inside her, his Goddess made sick with it, sick with him, Lenneth a captive to that uncontrollable emotion. Made wild in the moment, there had been no room for anything else, not even thoughts of him, of Lucian, or of that memory she had made to take his place. The world and it's people, the hopes she had entertained, instead lost to Lezard's own dreams and ambitions. With those desires, that sentiment thoroughly tasted, Lenneth had been made even more radiant, her eyes wild with every last bit of it.

It had left her shaken, the Goddess unable to shield herself from him. Gone had been the cold disinterest, Lezard reflected inside her a thousand times over. In her thoughts, and in her heart, that sliver of hate a poison that weakened her to him. She had not only taken note of him, Lenneth had FELT, the woman colored by a passion that had been both his and hers, the push and pull clash of opposing sides a different shade of the same flavor, love and hate so closely intertwined that only the thinnest of lines divided them.

Love his passion, hate had now been hers, Lenneth having boiled over with it. That it had then practically personified her, the Goddess made livid with Lezard. Her blue eyes had sparked with it, Lenneth hissing and shouting at him. All that unabated fury at last taking an outlet, the man a glutton for every last ounce of it. Each slap, and every curse, months upon months of her anger, her disappointments, and even her private fears, unleashed. She had all but sobbed with it, racked with those violent shudders, and the persistent truth that had been forced on her.

Somehow, impossibly so, it had gone from that violent kiss, to them on their knees, Lezard's arms still locked around hers. It hadn't been quite comfort but neither had it been meant as a menace, Lezard just holding her. They had weathered through the storm of that inexhaustible emotion together, each and every thunder clap, Lenneth sagging in his embrace. Wilted like a flower, with all the fight and vitality having leeched out of her, the Goddess had been made almost pliant.

The occasional tremor had still shook through that slender frame of hers, a stuttered breath having caught in the throat of an otherwise silent Goddess. He should have been content with that much, the timing having been all wrong for anything more. Yet he had tried all the same, Lezard not so much discarding the signs, as having thought to give Lenneth one last push, a nudge in the only direction that made sense. With his hands having been on her, with his fingers having combed through the luxurious locks of her hair, he had went for one last truth.

"Now you can admit to it..." That husky whisper had seem to fill the room, somehow expanding to fit into each nook and cranny, so that the sound of his voice had echoed off the very walls. "This world for the sham that it is…that it has always been."

She had not made so much as a sound, the only sign of her comprehension had been that of Lenneth's flinch against him. He had kept on petting over her hair, the touch meant to soothe, to calm the worst of the Goddess' breaking heart.

"Such a lie, while pretty on the surface, can't begin to placate the void left behind. That lonely feeling gnawing inside you, piece by jagged piece, the emptiness consuming you so that you are always searching, always looking for that elusive something that cannot be found in memories alone. Precious though they may be, those sweet recollections are flawed."

"Flawed..." It had been the softest of whispers, only audible due to the close proximity that had been between them.

"People tend to idealize the past." Lezard had explained. "They take all of the good, and choose to remember little of the bad. Often lamenting for a time that their minds recall as better than it had actually been, it's not the years gone by that they are longing for, so much as their dreams for a better world..."

Again that sharp flinch, as though his words had scored a direct hit against her. Lezard had hid a smile against the top of the trembling Goddess' hair, the sweet scent of it having been flavored with that of her misery. His hand had continued to pet over her, the Valkyrie almost docile in the moment, as she had knelt caught between the cage of his arms.

"No one is immune to that kind of longing." Lezard had continued. "Not humans, not demons, and certainly not you!"

"We are ALL imperfect creatures, when it comes to emotion. Perhaps the other Gods had once been able to claim better than we, but those relics are no more. Made useless by their inability to grow, those stagnant beings were doomed not just by the trickster, but by their own refusal to feel."

Each flinch had been telling, painting to vivid life a great many things. Her pain, her heartbreak, a guilt and even an agreement, reluctant though it had been.

"You know as well as I do, how little they valued feelings. How they practically feared human emotion. Given how they tried to suppress yours, it is no wonder there was no love lost. No love and no room for ones such as they, in this idyllic peace that you have created."

She had lifted her head up at that, the striking cobalt color of her eyes piercing into him. The Goddess had tried and failed to contain her emotions, all that pain and uncertainty having swirled to vivid life inside her. The wet sheen of her gaze had betrayed even more, though no tear had outright fallen free.

"It can't last." The words had been firm where his voice had been soft, Lezard having tried to gentle that next blow. "Wonderful dream though it started as, that continued void inside you, that loneliness eating away at your insides, will mark it for the nightmare it is in truth. Those souls you have surrounded yourself with, those puppets whose memories help to placate that emptiness? Even those will eventually no longer be enough. Even HE will no longer be enough, none of them able to understand you. None of them to even want to try."

His fingers had still been combing over her hair, Lezard having then bent his face over hers to breathe against her cheek. "I am different. I am the one being that exists in all of this creation, who not only understands, but has the free will to choose. I am the only one that can be your equal, your confidant, your port in this storm. I alone can give you what you need, what the others lack, what even HE falls short of."

Her eyes had been gleaming, that wet sheen having held the tears but also that of a fading defiance. That tired anger hadn't been capable of blazing any hotter, hers a spirit that had stood on the verge of breaking, the Goddess tired, and so wholly human in that moment. Vulnerable, that weakness' fine quiver having run its course through her, Lenneth having been primed for that one final blow that could have shattered apart completely, or have healed that rift between them.

It had been a gamble, but then any mention of that man, always was. Lucian had long had such a strangle hold on the Goddess' heart, HIS feelings having tried to shape and mold Lenneth's in turn, the woman, the Goddess having been forced into yet another role, into becoming the living embodiment of a memory long dead. It had been as laughable as it had been infuriating, that man, that boy, trying to shape the Goddess with his own personal desires. It was the utmost in ironic, that Lezard could be accused of doing the same, but with one key difference. The mage, that sinner, that depraved madman, had seen and wanted Lenenth for who she really was, and not who she could have once been.

"I SEE you." Lezard had breathed out loud. "I see the benevolent Goddess with the heart so capable and willing to love, who had broken free of her fate, the path that been carved out for her. I see the woman who had felt for the world, who had cried out at its loss. I see that noble and proud spirit, the warrior who had and still does fight to the bitter end, and that lonely soul who has tried to content herself with the memories. I see you for YOU, and not the girl, that single incarnation that was one out of so many, that HE would have had you be."

"Lucian…."

"Yes, Lucian." He had practically sneered with that name, Lezard absolutely furious. Angry over what that foolish boy had tried to do, and made even madder over what Lenneth had allowed of it. "It's not YOU that he had loved, it's that girl, that memory of a life taken too soon."

"Platina only died when she did because Odin had had need of me!"

"So that then excuses the boy?" Lezard had demanded. "All his misdeeds and sins, every last one, forgiven so that you might play a memory for him? What kind of life would that have been? For you and for him?! IF he had lived, had actually survived the trickster's treachery, would living that lie with him have made you happy?!"

"I..."

"That you even hesitate tells me enough. It wouldn't, it couldn't, no matter which version of Lucian you end with. So then tell me, Lenneth, why!? Why continue to live out this farce with the memory you have made to replace him!? Why Lenneth? When right before you is one just as devoted and ready to be with the TRUE you!"

A slap had then met with his cheek, Lenneth having managed enough force in that blow, to have turned him aside.

"How dare you!" She had seethed out at him.

"That's right, I DARE!" Lezard had hissed back. "I am the only one who does, the only one who can, full of the truth and all of its unpleasant aspects that you don't want to acknowledge, let alone hear! It is cold fact that I am armed with, all those niggling little worries and doubts inside you at last given voice! Hate me if you must, but stop surrounding yourself with those lies!"

"I already do hate you!" She had all but shouted in his face, attempting to then push herself free of him. "For each and every thing that you have done and will do, for the one remaining happiness that you try to take from me!" Her wild, spastic struggles had then become violent, Lenneth repeatedly striking at him with both of her hands, attempting to slap her way to freedom. Her voice had then caught on a sob, the futility of what she had been attempting then proven to her by Lezard's own strength. By the hands holding her down, that heavy weight atop her, Lenneth suddenly on her back.

Even then she had gleamed defiant, the bold blue of her eyes a challenge for Lezard to do his worst. Goddess help them both, but he had considered it, that temptation having betrayed itself in the fine tremor that had shuddered it's way through him.

There would have been no going back had he truly snapped. Just as there would be no moving forward if he continued to hold himself back. That indecision had warred inside him, the one dominant thought in all of this, that of how much simpler things would have been, if Lenneth would have just agreed to be his.

* * *

To Be Continued…

Iffy on how I ended it, just cause I have been working on this one bit by bit for just about short of forever and wanted it over and done with already. I had a lot of trouble with this one. I originally wanted the drabble to be about intoxication, between him getting drunks, and how intoxicating he finds her...was even going to title it intoxicate...but then drunken Lezard started rambling, and it felt like it was finished at 682 words, and nothing had truly been accomplished. It took a few days, to figure out how to use what I already had, and go into something else of what I had wanted in the harsh truths drabble...but at the cost of the intoxication theme….^^:;

Those who read and followed the original drabble series, might recognize a line from the part I am STILL undecided on. The part about things would be much simpler/easier if Lenneth would just say yes. I should really make a decision at this point...but I think instead I might jump over to the waking up in a homunculous body drabble...but we will see. Really I just want to spend the rest of the evening relaxing, maybe sneak in some game time with Berseria.

This sudden humidity and heat isn't helping my creativity. X_X

-Michelle


	7. Chapter 7

I feel like I should put up a triggering warning for this one. It's not explicitly detailed, but there is a non con warning here to heed. If that sort of thing is upsetting to you, I'd suggest quitting before the middle of page three…

-Michelle

* * *

The half empty bottle clattered to the floor, just one in a multitude of brightly colored glass whose shattered remains littered the space around him. None of it had helped, not the brandy, not the rum, not the cognac and vodka, the answer to the indecision that tormented him still, unable to be found in any of the bitter intoxicants' power. Instead of the soothing relief brought on by their high, the drinks had only served to deepen further the sting of all his troubles. That of the rejection he had endured day in and day out, every waking hour and then some tormented in turn by it, by HER, the Goddess, Lenneth so thoroughly intent on disdaining him.

It was no less than what he deserved, Lezard under no delusions about the nature of his sins. The crimes against the Goddess, and that of Creation, all of his blasphemies and unrelenting desires, the selfishness that had laid wreck and ruin to the world. He wasn't even capable of truly repenting, the resulting devastation just more means to an end, Lenneth in hand and thoroughly caught by him. It might not be the love that he has wanted, but that hate and that fear were something. A feeling that was no less potent, the mad mage at last in Lenneth's heart.

He should have been happy about that victory. Should have celebrated the fact that his immovable Goddess had at last fallen, not only reacting to him, but experiencing that strong surge of emotion. That hate and that anger, and especially that fear, all forming together a unique blend of feeling that his beloved Goddess has held for no other person. That riotous mix was something that belonged to Lezard alone, validating and marking him as special, his obsession rewarded, his the sole existence in all of Creation to have earned the privilege of Lenneth's unending ire.

Such a broken feeling shouldn't have inspired even a sliver of hope, and yet Lezard clung to it all the same. Desperate for it, and desperate for HER, it wasn't a true happiness that he was seeking but an end to the madness inside him, that lonely craving that would be satisfied with what ever small bit of her that he could get, Lenneth even at her angriest and most fearful, still the balm that soothed a soul like his. In that he was no different from those puppets, devout and blasphemer alike, in reaching out for the Goddess' hand.

To have been so thoroughly shunned by the Goddess who had accepted and forgiven so much, who had and did love every being of her Creation, had left him a festering ball of resentments and unrequited desires. He was rendered his most desperate and angry, his heightened fury over the perceived unfairness of it all, was only made worse by the volatile mix of alcohol inside him. It left him stewing, and it left him wallowing, his upset a rambunctious energy that was actively seeking an outlet. Magic crackled along his nerve endings, the power a physical manifestation of his most frustrated of feelings, and a mocking reminder that for all of his strength and accomplishments, Lezard still fell short of her. Of Lenneth, the man, the mage, nothing more than an imperfect existence that would never be deemed worthy enough. Not fit for the smallest of her regard, he had been neither thanked nor remembered, Lezard instead left floundering in a sea of disappointments. So thoroughly forgotten as to be deemed harmless, he had all but crawled on hands and on knees, to make himself matter.

Like a child crying out to be noticed, his many misdeeds had been his desperation begging. He had used people, and tossed around souls, in crafting a love letter to her. Each killing blow the manifestation of his words, the adoration and the obsession, and that blood thirsty need, Lezard had been driven by a shade of insanity that could only be colored by one emotion.

Love.

Lezard LOVED Lenneth. Had from the moment of that first glimpse of her, the man captivated not just by the Goddess' sublime beauty, but by the proud nobility of her eyes. Caught by that ephemeral blue, by a Goddess who had been like no other, not divine, mortal, or damned, her kindness and her heart, the depth of the feelings that she had proven capable of, had all painted one lovely picture. The justice that drove her, that steel determination and that warrior's spirit, offset by the softness of a woman who had believed in forgiveness and redemption.

That heart so filled to overflowing with the depths of an emotion that Odin and the other Divine had feared, Lenneth had shed a great many tears to pave the path for a future free of the Gods' tyranny. With that benevolent hand, she had extended an iron clad promise, a paradise the likes of which had never before been seen, the world and its people remade, an unending peace granted. It was the utmost in ironic, that the salvation that she had blessed them with, that tranquil serenity, had come at a great cost. To her and to them, Lenneth surrounded by puppets, by memories given form, those idealized creatures lacking the free will to rebuff and rebel against such idyllic perfection.

She had trapped them all in a dream built on lies, this world a twisted mockery of how Creation was truly meant to be. It went against the very laws that governed nature, no one thing meant to claim to be all good, or all bad. Imperfect creatures that all the races were, Lenneth's miracle was not one that could keep maintained without her. Without the Goddess to fuel it, this perfect paradise would snowball in effect, order and peace giving way to chaos and war, the people set on their own destruction. They'd no longer be her perfect little constructs, neither able to maintain the lofty ideals she had set forth for them, nor wanting to. Would even that be enough to get Lenneth to truly see, to understand the deception she herself had self purported? Or would she continue to cling to a dream fast falling apart into a nightmare, blinding herself in a last ditch effort to protect herself from a crippling truth. That Lucian and the others as she had known them, were gone, even their souls extinguished, replaced instead with mere memories of how Lenneth had wanted them to ultimately be.

The world as she had known it had perished, the prophesied Ragnarok far worse than anyone could have ever anticipated, Lezard and Lenneth the only known survivors of the trickster's massacre. That awful truth should have been something to build upon, a fragile bond forged in the wake of the Goddess' glorious rise to her newfound power. There should have been a grudging gratitude given, a reluctant respect held gleaming in that ephemeral gaze, the burgeoning seeds of of a tentative truce that would have given rise to Lezard being more than just merely tolerated by his beloved Goddess.

In some ways he could admit to being just as deluded as she, Lezard having expected a miracle of his own. That of the Goddess opening her heart and her home to him, Lenneth able to appreciate him not just for his power, but as a man, a creator in his own right, the mage responsible for the crafting of the body that had allowed her to break the shackles of her stagnant divinity, and become something more. He might not have been a God himself, but as far as any other being was concerned, he was a step above them all.

It still wasn't enough. No matter his power, the magic and the knowledge gained, that mad aspiration would never see him as her equal. It wasn't his humanity that held him back, it was his crimes, his many wicked ways, and the lawless nature of his misdeeds. His hands tainted with sin, his body bogged down with the weight of his blasphemies, Lezard would never be clean enough for her. His was a damaged nature, an affront to both God and human alike, and if he couldn't have her, then the man would damn well make sure that the rest of Creation couldn't either!

It was just one more sin, a crime not just against humanity, but that of the entirety of Lenneth's Creation. He didn't care how much more blacker his soul became, Lezard desperate and angry, and above all selfish. That greedy, grasping lust that had run rough shod over everything, that had left him mad and despairing, drove him to his feet now. The room seemed to spin with the force of his emotions, all of his pent up energy and agitations, the man taking one unsteady step after another. Broken glass splintered further under foot, all his hope and ambition lost, Lezard caring nothing for no one save that of the Goddess he had stolen from the world.

Lenneth his one and only purpose, the only thing to have ever mattered to Lezard, was it that mix of different liquors that gave him the courage to darken her doorstep now? To make him this bold and this brazen, a stark figure illuminated by the torch lit hallway casting hers in shadows? Or was it simply his brand of insanity at play, the unrequited love and the lust at last making him snap? The mage didn't truly know, but what's more, he didn't much care, tired at last of the games, of the rejection and their endlessly slow dance.

He was in Hell. Had been for a long time now, driven mad by his love, his obsession, tortured by it and by her every refusal. It seemed only right that she join him there, and if not by her willing consent, then he'd drag her down with him to the depths. Let them be both lost, and maybe through the shattered remains, somehow they'd find each other again with new eyes and appreciation.

The idea taken root inside him, it wasn't just courage that the bitter drinks had lent him, it was a self given permission, Lezard advancing into the room. Lenneth wide eyed and wary, had already scrambled up out of the bed, her own wild energy cautious and on alert. As was so often her want, the Goddess didn't so much as deign to speak to him now, maintaining that particular distance between them. She wasn't as unaffected as the woman might have once claimed, that haunted expression sliced with a genuine fear, one that had her darting a glance past him, to the door. His lips curled in cruel response, a careless snap of his fingers causing the door to not only slam shut, but to audibly lock. That got him Lenneth's undivided attention, the one means of escape lost, the pair circling around one another in that limited space.

"I had wanted things to be different." Those words out of him were laced with a bitter weariness, and full of his exhausting disappointments. "I had wanted US to be different." For every step taken, Lenneth was driven back, the Goddess avoiding the bed, but not that of the wall fast drawing near. "But I've never stood a chance, have I, of even a small kernel of the love you've shown to THEM." He sneered with the thought of those creatures, the people who had never even had to work for the Goddess' adoration and care.

She didn't inundate him with words of just how unworthy he was, Lenneth just cautiously staring him down. It was maddening, the silent accusation in that cobalt blue gaze of hers, it and the disapproving set of her lips, unable to detract from her lush appeal. Details seeped in past the haze of his drunken stupor, that of the wavy wisps of platinum colored hair that had escaped from an otherwise neatly braided mane, and the tight strain of the white silk of her night gown stretched across the bounty of her breasts. That material flowed loose and wild past her knees, the shapely calves of her bared legs birthing to life one sinful fantasy after another. His fingers curled with the urge to touch, his body wound tight with long repressed desires, Lezard desperate for a taste. That raw, unabashed hunger precipitated his beloved's back hitting against the wall, and animal that he had been reduced to, Lezard couldn't even smile. Not to gloat, and not to mock, his expression instead so very dark and so serious.

Intent on her, his cornered prey, Lezard extended his hand so as to cup the smooth perfection of her cheek. It was that that let him feel the slight quiver trembling through her, the beginning hint of a panic not yet fully embraced.

"I've wanted nothing more than the right to worship you with my love, to make a pledge of my unending devotion. To kneel before you...not as a man with his God, but as the lover who was your equal." He stretched his thumb to trace over her bottom lip, that soft texture a madness inducing taunt of something he would always have to take. Both the kisses and the smile she'd never give to him, Lezard this odd mix of wistful and angry, and full of a regret that wasn't anywhere strong enough to stop him.

Teeth snapped in warning, but the mage didn't care. If he couldn't have the sweetness of her kiss, Lezard would gladly settle for the violence, this wild and panicking side to the Goddess something that was all HIS. That exclusivity a heady, potent mix, he took the kiss from her, all its blood and brutality and more. The man was no less gentle than she, his battered lips this heavy unyielding pressure upon hers, the copper tang of Lezard's blood helping cement that violent merging of flesh.

He nearly choked on her scream, the mad fury that was ultimately a helpless bluff, it and Lenneth both without the power to dissuade him. Maybe nothing could, the hands that had once been so reverent, shaping over her flesh in a different kind of worship. The ripe fullness of her breasts, the slender lines of her waist, and the shapely width of her hips making that body a temptation that would take a saint to resist. She was a crafted perfection, a Goddess no less, all that trembling and squirming a maddening response, his beloved revealing a side to her that no other man, woman, or child would ever be so privileged to see.

Made crazed with that realization, his savaged lips broke contact with hers to instead press his ardent intentions into the hollow of the Goddess' throat. That crimson mark stood out in stark relief, the smeared red like a beacon, a sign, the proof of ownership that Lezard had so desperate a need of. It bound her to him, every caress of his lips cementing his claim, his mouth sensual and sly, and moving ever lower upon her. Such sinful intent peppered more red across her cleavage, both the ripe round flesh of her breasts and the silk stretched across it, worshiped in turn.

With those determined lips, he tormented and teased her, feeling the way that the fat flesh heaved with her every breath, a single panicked plea swallowed up to a steadfastly stubborn pride. She wouldn't give him her words, wouldn't dignify him with that kind of response, that ragged breath the only part of her distress truly vocalized.

"Ah….!"

It nearly made him dizzy with relief, that strained sound so full of a reluctant admission. Her ability to feel, something, anything, everything and all, her repulsed state one of disgust, loathing, and fear, his Goddess so angry and yet so afraid. All a quiver against him, shaking with that violent attempt to suppress the worst of her reactions, she had no protection against the body that was betraying her. It was what arched Lenneth into the hands that were sculpting over her flesh, the sensitive tips of her breasts budding, straining tight against the fabric over them.

Such a sight, that of his brave, resilient Goddess struggling against her body's own capability to feel, and to feel so strongly at her enemy's hands, that helpless mix of a forced arousal and a wild revulsion, it was all so intoxicating to him. He was dazzled by the sight of her, the feel, his squirming beloved trying to both pull away and alternatively arch into him. She was at war, her body craving one thing, her mind wanting the exact opposite, Lezard pitting the two against one another, his mouth caressing over silk and satin, his hands closing over the curve of her hips, nails dragging lightly but determinedly over the flimsy fabric of her gown.

Save for the rasp of her breaths, and the occasional no, Lenneth refused him all other sound, those sweet dulcet tones lost to her gasps and that grim determination. Even at her most shamed, his Goddess was so stubbornly defiant, refusing him even as that body of hers began to melt with acceptance. Under his determined assault, his mouth and fingers caressing and stroking, tracing patterns into her skin, she yielded bit by reluctant bit, until her hands themselves were no longer trying to push him away.

She was LOST, Lenneth so thoroughly overcome, the blue of her eyes given over to the gleam of those unshed tears. There was a world's heap of emotion, the despair and her refusal, that rejection mixed in with that helpless arousal, the desire that shamed her, and that fear of him spiced in with her anger. All gave way to a weariness that might be found deep to the bone, the Goddess all but defeated, branded by his touch, by the hands caressing under her gown's skirt, her shaking legs at last giving out, Lenneth falling into the waiting grasp of her tormentor's eager hands.

* * *

To Be Continued….

I was liking this right up until after his knees thumped on the floor. I feel like..no I know things derailed from what I was intending to have happen after that point. But maybe it's a good kind of derail…

At some point over the last few months, I started thinking of the drabbles being a bridge between both games. But I wonder if I have the nerve to do the kind of ending I am imagining for this….

In other news, the past two months I've been busy with a move..it was a month long process just for interviews, house inspections and paperwork...and now I am finally in the end stretch, with trying to get everything moved over. Once I do get completely in my new place, I won't have internet hooked up until November... I am dreaming of how awesome it would be if on my time off from the net, I managed to write a whole bunch of chapters...but I am probably just deluding myself...X_X

I am surprised but grateful amid the chaos of the moving, I got inspired and had the time to write something. Even if it completely derailed at the end.

The previous drabble chapter, I tweaked the ending line. I just worded it better. (Hopefully) I think it was the right choice to tweak it.

10/21/2019 Updated a few days later. Yeah..I didn't hate the last paragraph per se, but the more I read it, it felt like...like too abrupt a switch from the paragraph before it...I partly blame this on, I had someone in the background while I was trying to write, ranting and raving about everything that's ever bothered them recently...That nonstop verbal barrage of woe is me, had me stall for about two days on finishing the drabble...and finally I just tried to write through the bitch fest...I've since had SOME peace and quiet to fix it more to my satisfaction. I am gonna see what I can use of the original ending, to start off the next chapter. Cause there IS stuff in there I did like...even if it can't all be salvaged.

-Michelle

Dark Blight, I pmed you already, but thought I'd try to briefly answer you here, mostly in case anyone else is wondering the same things that you asked. I doubt I'll be touching the Dark Drabbles series, but there is always a chance for the Caged Bird. We shall see. The Caged Bird is actually supposed to be...not quite a rewrite of DD, but more like a fleshed out and expanded upon version that was supposed to have how the situation got to where it was when DD started. Only as much as I would like to work on it, every time I reread Caged Bird, I still end up mentally blocked on how to get four started. It's very frustrating…

Deliberatee, it's hard to answer that without veering into spoilers. But somehow I don't see her saying yes...cause then VP Silmeria game would most likely NOT Happen. I've a particular ending route in mind for these drabbles, but…I guess I am worried about being lynched for it. But I do want to remain true to the vision in my head...even when the characters starts to derail me and do their own thing...


	8. Chapter 8

Slight heads up...In case you might have somehow missed it, I was unhappy with my rushed ending to seven...so ended up trashing the last paragraph or two, and writing several new ones in its place. Worth a look over if you haven't already seen the revised drabble!

Oh and trigger warnings for non consensual/rape for this one too...

-Michelle

* * *

The forbidden once tasted, is a bittersweet fruit, one whose unique flavor is something that can never be forgotten. For all of its sour sweetness, that rush of intoxicating highs can and does prove addicting, and is a more powerful force than any of the sobering lows of the reality that comes ushered in on the mornings that follow. Any guilt that he could have felt, is far vastly outdone by the twisted satisfaction that Lezard always feels, by it and the intimate knowledge that he now has of his beloved Goddess first hand.

He now knows what she sounds like, at her most desperate and helplessly pleasured, that reluctant arousal vocalized by the softest and most fitful of moans. Those breathless gasps, and that lilting whine of distress, his Goddess left all a quiver and shaking. He'll never be able to forget that, or the lost look in her brilliantly gleaming eyes, that slight hint of tears shining brightly in that ephemeral gaze, his beloved doing her best to keep from giving in so completely, her resistance itself had been broken, piece by despairing piece, until it had all shattered apart. SHE had shattered apart, Lenneth all but screaming as her body had come completely undone against his tongue.

She hadn't been able to stop it, or HIM, that passionate assault, and the response it forced out of her. With every quivering bit of her flesh being licked over by his moist and eager tongue, by the flat of it spreading her open, a wellspring of arousal had gushed forth. So much so that it had overflowed, that warm, fragrant honey dampening more than just her thighs.

He hadn't been able to get enough of that taste either, that unique flavor that was all Lenneth's own. Lezard could and did spend hours there, drinking her down, his tongue patient and practiced, every lap of it making that quivering flesh bloom more. He'd let it travel along every inch of her, the obsessed mage testing every bit of that silken texture and contour, to ferret out her secrets, that of what made her wild, what made her scream out, and above all what made Lenneth BEG. He'd alternate between the torment of the tip of his tongue, and the suckle of his lips around that tightly bundled bit of nerves and flesh, while the half delirious Goddess pleaded and sobbed, shaking hard enough that she might have squirmed free of him if not for Lezard's hands holding her down.

That unrelenting grip the shackle with which kept her bound and spread before him, the Goddess hadn't the strength to truly get free. Not in a body as easily subdued as this, Lenneth betrayed, the sweetly supple flesh that housed her soul, weak to this, and weak to HIM. With that practiced tongue, with lips that covered over her so blatantly, that shameless assault stirred to life a needy longing that burned, one the platinum haired female was ill equipped to stand against. Consumed by it, by the flames licking all over and through her, the woman could only cry out in a protest that even she could no longer sound sure of.

He always thrilled to the sound of it, to the need threading in her voice. She'd gasp and moan, while the flesh of her splayed thighs quivered, Lenneth's surrender made all the sweeter with her scrabbling attempts to resist. He'd hum and purr into the flesh his face was buried against, never faltering even for a split second, drinking her down like the vital essential she was in truth to him. He's lost count of the times the wicked sensuality of his tongue and his lips have brought the Goddess to shrieking climax, but Lezard knows he'll never get tired of it. Not of her taste, and not of the submission, the woman caving in to his devout expression.

There could only be one thing even better. With her panting gasps, with those breasts all a quiver with the force of those harsh breaths, with Lenneth's blue gaze gone dark, her pouting lips shaping an unvoiced protest, only then would Lezard at long last abandon his feast. With her arousal and climax coating his lips and chin, with his hair all wild and askew from fingers that had alternated between pushing and pulling, the mage would shift just enough. He'd kiss up her body while fitting his torso between thighs made pliant by his mouth's treachery. His fingers would stroke over her, a touch here, a touch there, across the tender flesh of her belly, or the shapely width of her hips, plying a false comfort neither one was truly buying. Having been left so thoroughly exhausted by his antics, the Goddess could only let out a muffled yelp, or a sharp gasp at the feel of him, so rock hard and ready, that eager length of him pressing insistently against so overly sensitive flesh.

So thoroughly stimulated past anything any one person should be allowed to endure, Lezard thought Lenneth's sopping wet state a fitting payback for all the nights he has had to suffer alone. Such never ending madness can't be eased away by just the physical, the mage made insatiable from the lack of the one thing he can't force. The Goddess' love, that heartfelt devotion, Lenneth unable to feel even a sliver of the desperation that drives HIM.

It's a never ending madness, and no matter how much the mornings color him with regret, always, ALWAYS the nights are ruled by his lusts.

* * *

To Be Continued….

Slight time skip here...from the ending of seven to here in eight. Not sure if it shows...the...tenses were giving me some trouble here...(Hope that's even the right word. Had a total air head moment and zoned out on what I was trying to say.) Basically, what I was trying to establish in this one, was that it's been multiple nights since seven, and Lezard really has been insatiable for her. X_X

To be honest, I couldn't get this drabble to obey me much. I was intending to set up that it was several nights later, and him reflecting on taking her by force since then...but then it was supposed to flash back to like the morning after that first night...but it didn't work out that way at all...and I ended up thinking even though this one is very short, I liked the last line enough to end on it…

So yeah...that's about it. All settled in from my move too, by the way!

-Michelle

Dark Blight, thanks again. :) Yeah, disgruntled muses are unpleasant to say the least….


End file.
